


Phantasms and fragments

by zinjadu



Series: Wed to Blight [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dragon Age Quest: Broken Circle, Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, In the Fade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 15:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14855462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinjadu/pseuds/zinjadu
Summary: Caitwyn and Co. get to Kinloch Hold, and at first it seems like Caitwyn can bluff and con her way through this.  Turns out, there's never any escaping what she is and her ghosts.Scattered moments during the quest, and a rewrite of the "opening" of the Fade quest line to better reflect Tabris feels.





	Phantasms and fragments

The tower reared up in the middle of Lake Calenhad.  It dominated the landscape for miles around.  They had been able to see it for the past day or two, and from Caitwyn’s vantage on the shore she thought it might be even taller than Fort Drakon.  Though that might just be a lack of any buildings to compare it to.  A ghostly mist clung to the shores of the island the tower stood on, and the full moon lent it an extra eerie glow.  She’d seen similar things in the Denerim harbor of a nighttime, but with the rumors of problems at the tower Caitwyn thought it was a bit too apt for the home of Ferelden’s mages to have an especially haunted appearance.

 

Giving her errant thoughts a mental shake, Caitwyn quickly parsed out all she had been able to learn about mages, magical problems and how to solve them.  It seemed like it was mostly dangerous, likely to involve demons, and required Templars.   She hated walking into a place without knowing what was in store for her.  No way to scout this, there was just going in and hoping that they wouldn’t be torn apart at the outset.

 

“So, this is the prison that mages willingly submit themselves to,” Morrigan drawled into the silence.  Caitwyn’s glance flickered to the witch, and there was no mistaking the disdainful curl of the other woman’s lips.

 

“Alright,” Caitwyn said, overriding any possible retort from anyone.  She hoped she sounded decisive, that no one could tell that she was making this up as she went.  “Alistair, Sten, think both of you would be good to have in there.  Morrigan—”

 

“I will not—”

 

“I’d like you to stay here.  You can watch the road and make sure no one tries to come for us while we’re occupied in the tower.  If we are, wait, you _can_ turn into a bird of some sort, right?” Caitwyn asked, stilling any objections.  Morrigan drew herself up, but nodded with the vestiges of approval. 

 

“Of course I can.  I will await your return and ensure you shall have ample warning should our enemies come upon us.”  Morrigan’s yellow eyes gleamed, and Caitwyn thought she’d probably try to blow them up rather than warn her.  Either way, it would mean no one would be waiting to capture them when they came back out of the tower.

 

If they did.

 

Tamping down her unhelpful thoughts, Caitwyn turned to the others.  “It’ll be the five of us, then.”

 

“Wait, you’re bringing the dog?” Alistair asked, voice rising with incredulity. 

 

“If he can kill darkspawn, why not demons?” she challenged.  Leliana laughed, and Sten grumbled, a tad skeptically but not entirely disapproving either.  Maethor, however, barked happily.  That was good enough for her.

 

* * *

 

The barrier fell, and the change among the assembled mages and apprentices was palpable.  The mages tensed, hands white-knuckled on staves, and some of the children, the young ones, whimpered.  It wasn’t much of a plan: kill everything that they found and hope nothing escaped them to make it back to the people here.  All they had was Wynne’s assertion that Kinloch hold had been built as a singular path, that at every level there was only one way up or down, so sneaking past them would be impossible.  And that no demon would be able to pass up fresh targets.  Still, Caitwyn hesitated.

 

“Why do we linger?  We must move quickly if we are to rid this place of these abominations,” Sten growled.  Caitwyn ignored it.  Instead, she caught Leliana’s eye, a silent question on Caitwyn’s face.  Leliana’s lips curved in an understanding half-grin, and she nodded.

 

“I know we’re taking away Wynne, but we’re not going to leave you defenseless,” Caitwyn told the mages.  She gestured at Leliana, the bard stepping forward and joining the line of mages that stood at the ready.  “Leliana’s a good shot, and she’s held her own against darkspawn and bandits, and she’ll stay with you.  She’ll help you keep the demons at bay.”

 

It wasn’t much, a single woman armed with bow and arrow, but it relieved some of the sour panic from some faces.  The mages were not being abandoned to their fates.  But it was the naked fear on the faces of the children that drove her.  Their fear was an echo of what she had known in her life, a child’s wild terror of being small and helpless in the face of everything that was too big, too real.  Her hand on Maethor’s back, she approached the children, who looked at her with eyes that had seen too much, and she knelt down.

 

“And this,” she said, patting the dog on the back, “is Maethor.  He’s a Mabari.  Smartest dogs in the whole world, Mabari.  And this one, he’s a fighter.  His name even means warrior, and he’ll protect you, alright?  Anything bad comes through there, and he’ll tear it apart.  Won’t you boy?”  Maethor let out a proud, deep chested bark that boomed off the stone.  The apprentices took a half-step backwards, but Caitwyn went on, putting a friendly smile on her face and her best happy patter.  “But don’t you worry.  He’s as gentle as a lamb with people he likes.  Go on, give him a pat.”

 

Tentatively the children inched forward and stroked Maethor’s flanks.  Maethor, a clear opportunist, promptly licked their faces and acted like an overgrown puppy.  That sent the children into a burst of giggles, out of place with the blood and death that permeated the air, but it served to ease the tension of the mages another fraction.  With a final pat for her dog, Caitwyn stood and gestured to the others to follow her. 

 

“That was very kind of you, Warden,” Wynne said once they were around the bend.  She had a measured voice, and she reminded Caitwyn a little bit of Valendrian with her calm demeanor and knowing eyes.

 

“Hm, it was a good tactical decision,” Sten interjected.  “Frightened mages at our backs would be problematic.”  Caitwyn glanced to Alistair, just in case _he_ had anything to say on the subject, but he shook his head, a rueful grin on his face.  That was something, at least.  Caitwyn wondered if this kind of commentary would continue.  She really hoped it wouldn’t.  The last thing she needed was everyone telling her what they thought about her actions.

 

“Why can’t it be both?”  Her tone was arch, and she was happy to find that the retort made them both quiet down.  Picking up her pace, she focused on what lied ahead of them, and the fight they were in store for.

 

* * *

 

Caitwyn cocked her head, the sound of armor just beyond the door.  So far there had been no sign of Niall, only chaos throughout the tower.  Everything was in disarray, book shelves knocked over, collapsed masonry blocking the path, and every kind of mad thing in the world attacking them.  If it wasn’t blood mages and demons, it was undead.  And now it was possessed Templars.  Caitwyn felt a flicker of sympathy for those who had been caught up in the crossfire, but according to Wynne there was no way to _un_ possess someone.  So the men died. 

 

Her booted feet barely making a sound on the stone floor, she crept forward, her right hand held low, a signal for the rest of them to keep back.  Then she stopped, the glint of metal catching her eye.  There was a trap just in front of the door, and she grinned.  Kneeling, she tinkered for a few moments and then stood, backing away.  She held up her hand, spreading all five fingers wide and then closing it into a fist before pointing at the door.  Alistair nodded and strode to the door as Caitwyn backed away, taking up a better position.  Sten moved to flank, and Wynne kept her distance.

 

Then Alistair opened the door.

 

“Hey!  Don’t suppose any of you want to play a round of Wicked Grace?” he asked with false good cheer.  The possessed Templars charged, the first one’s leg catching in a trap, and Sten neatly removed the man’s head from his shoulders.  Caitwyn didn’t think as she fired her arrows as the other Templars surged past the warriors.  They were dead men talking, she knew.  It was a mercy to free them from the demon’s influence and send them to the Maker’s side.  She kept that thought firmly in front of her.

 

One Templar, however, bulled into Alistair and knocked him back.  Alistair brought his shield up just in time to protect himself from the one that rushed him, but that left him open to another Templar.  The other one cut a vicious slash across Alistair’s side, and Caitwyn shifted her target on reflex, sending an arrow through the visor slit of the attacker’s helm.  He fell back with a sick _hurk_ , and Alistair pressed his advantage, driving the first Templar back.  Then Wynne waded into the fray, magic cloaking them all in a shimmering shield, and a blue glow surrounded her for a moment.  In that moment, Caitwyn’s vision seemed to double, and it was like there were two people standing where the mage stood, but then she blinked and the vision was gone. 

 

The fight was over, and Caitwyn took a moment to calm her breathing before entering the room.  It still sat oddly with her to _fight_ rather than find ways to run or dissemble or distract, but she was getting used to it.  Letting the rush of battle go, however, was not always easy.  Her nerves jangled ever since that first fight two floors below, but she did her best to keep her mind clear. 

 

Sten and Wynne followed her into the room, and they started searching it for anything that could be useful.  Any information about what had happened here could be useful, but there was nothing, just more books and belongings strewn about.

 

“At least we know Niall made it past this point,” Wynne commented as she rearranged a mass of scattered papers into a neat pile.  Caitwyn understood the impulse, to put _something_ to rights after everything had gone so wrong.  Though it wouldn’t change anything that had happened, Caitwyn picked up a turned-over book to put it away, but the strange symbols in it caught her eye.  Frowning, she examined it and was about to ask Wynne about it when Alistair sidled up to her.

 

“Thanks, by the way,” Alistair said quietly.  “That was good shooting.”

 

“You are alright?  Looked like you took a substantial hit.”  Her eyes flickered to his side, but he shrugged.

 

“Turns out Wynne's a healer, which is pretty handy.  The armor will need some work, but I’m fine.  There won’t even be a scar,” he said brightly.  Caitwyn had heard of that.  Stories of magical healing, taking away all hurts and illnesses, saving heroes in stories just when they needed it most.  She’d never thought to see it herself. 

 

“There is nothing of use here,” Sten informed them, but that brought Caitwyn’s attention back to the book she held.

 

“What about this?  It has symbols I don’t recognize, but it’s not another language.  It looks like… I don’t know what it looks like,” she said, extending the book to Wynne.  The mage took it and flipped through the pages, and then her blue eyes crinkled in genuine amusement.

 

“This is a book of advanced mathematics,” Wynne explained, and Caitwyn promptly felt like an idiot.  Heat rose in her cheeks and along her ears, and she wanted to hide.  She’d never seen math that looked like that, numbers and letters and other symbols all jumbled up together, and she suddenly keenly felt the lack of learning she’d had in her life.  She could do sums and figures, could read and write, and had thought herself clever enough.  Clearly, that was not true.  Sten rolled his eyes at the delay, though Alistair eyed the book as though it had offended him.

 

“Ugh, something worse than evil magic.  _Math_ ,” Alistair said, affecting disgust.   Wynne however, held the book back out to Caitwyn, the pages open to a much earlier section.  The math was simpler and there was an example there.  She blinked.  It made sense.

 

“They’re puzzles.  Puzzles of numbers and letters and things, but puzzles,” she said, taking the book back from Wynne.  Her fingers ran along the lines and she wondered what else in the world she’d never known about.

 

“Indeed they are,” Wynne confirmed, her tone contemplative.  Caitwyn glanced up to see everyone staring at her.  Sten’s gaze held mild annoyance for the delay, whereas Alistair regarded her with amused surprise.  Wynne, however, watched Caitwyn with thoughtful eyes.  Caitwyn didn’t like it.

 

“We should keep moving.”  Caitwyn snapped the book shut and set it down without a backwards glance.  So what if there was a whole world out there?  A world of puzzles and information, a world she’d never known because they’d been poor elves?  That didn’t matter.  She had a job to do.  “Wynne, how much further up is there?”

 

“There is only one more floor before the Harrowing Chamber, and I imagine that is where Uldred has decided to make his stand,” Wynne said, her expression and tone darkening.

 

“I suppose there’s no place for him to hide up there?”

 

“No, no there is not.”

 

Caitwyn put everything else out of her mind and focused on the task at hand.  Uldred had to be stopped if the mages were to be saved, if they were to defeat the Blight.  She couldn’t be distracted, not by anything.

 

* * *

 

“Cait, there you are!” Papa said, smiling wide.  Caitwyn frowned, smoothing her hands over her simple dress, a shred of confusion dancing across her mind.  She was in Papa’s house, she knew that.  Of course that’s where she was.  She needed a bit of sugar for the bread, and she was out.  Neralos would pick up some more, of course, he was good that way, but bread waited on no man.

 

“Hi Papa,” she replied, still frowning.  There was something different, something not quite right.  But everything was in order here.  Nothing out of place, just how Papa kept things. 

 

“Hi Papa?  That’s all I get.  Too much to come see your poor old father now and again?” he teased her.  He smiled at her, his green eyes lit with love and good humor.  He’d been so happy since the wedding, happy for her, but with only Shianni in the house now, it had to feel a bit empty to him.  She really should visit more.

  
Then, as if thinking of Shianni had summoned her, her cousin emerged from their room.  No, what _had_ been their room.  It was all Shianni’s now.  Caitwyn lived in her own home with her husband.  That was how things were now.

 

“Caitwyn!  It’s good to see you,” Shianni said, wrapping her arms around Caitwyn’s shoulders.  “You really shouldn’t stay away so long.”

 

“But… I only live across the alley.  It’s not far,” Caitwyn reasoned.  She _had_ entered through the door, right?  She was here, but she couldn’t remember going through the door.  Why was that?

 

“I suppose it’s being newly wed,” Shianni said with a put upon air.  “No more time for your baby cousin now that you have a handsome husband.”

 

“That’s… that’s not true, Shianni,” she protested, but weakly.  Something was wrong.  It was like when she had too little sleep, her mind felt fuzzy, and her eyes couldn’t take in details properly.

 

“We’re only teasing you, firebug,” Papa told her.  “Now, what did you need.  You know I’m always here for you.”  That was true.  Papa had always been there for her, even when she had chased in Mama’s shadow, and then later when Mama had gone and she had tried to be the good daughter she should have been.  How could she turn her back on her father?  She couldn’t leave right away.  Maybe she’d stay for a little while.  Maybe they could have dinner here tonight.

 

That sounded nice.

 

“I know Papa,” Caitwyn said, and she smiled.  That felt strange.  She thought she should be happy, but something in the back of her mind wouldn’t let her be.  Something black and twisted.  Turning, she regarded Shianni.  Her cousin looked normal, bright eyes, big smile— _eye blackening, dress torn, a bloody patch between her legs_ —Caitwyn backed away, holding her hands before her.

 

“What’s happening?”  Her breathing hitched, but she only saw Papa and Shianni.  They were smiling and happy, and everything was good. 

 

“Everything is fine, my darling.”  Turning, she saw Neralos, her husband.  He smiled at her, that hopeful smile she could remember from their wedding day.  He’d promised he’d try to make her happy, and he had.  Hadn’t he?  “Come, we should stay.”

 

“Yes, yes you’re right,” she said, her momentary panic dissipating.  He took her hand gently, and— _sweat and dirt and blood on his face, lighting up to see her free, then the sound of metal in flesh, his mouth an o of surprise, body slumping the ground—_ Caitwyn wrenched herself free of him.  Her back hit the wall and her eyes darted from face to face.  Their expressions were worried, concerned, but something in their eyes made her belly crawl.

 

Their eyes were _hungry_.

 

“Stay away,” she demanded.  But there was no way to make them.  They advanced on her, step by terrifying step, demons wearing the faces of her family.  Her heart hammered, blood rushing in her ears.

 

“Don’t you miss us, firebug?”  That was Papa, or the demon that looked like him, then Neralos took another step and said, “My wife, don’t you want to be happy?”

 

Panic crawled along her chest, and the house suddenly seemed too small.  There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.  No way to _fight_.

 

“Why would you want me to suffer, Cait?” Shianni asked.  No, the _demon_ asked.  It wanted to cow her, to force her to stay and _use_ her, to claw its way into her mind through her guilt and heartache and homesickness.  Anger rose in her, like a river bursting its banks, and her hands curled into fists.  Then she felt the wooden grip of her bow in her hand, an arrow suddenly in the other.  In a blink her dress was replaced by her Warden armor, sturdy and real in a world revealed to be made of cobwebs.

 

“You aren’t my family,” she grit out between clenched teeth.  There was a breathless, still moment, and then the demons showed themselves, bursting from the forms of her family, coming for her.  She ducked low, getting out of their greedy, grasping range.  Keeping her distance as best as she could in the confines of the house, Caitwyn killed the demons, arrows somehow replenished by thought alone, and then it was over. 

 

She was alone.

 

“Don’t panic, Cait, don’t panic.  The demons are gone,” she told herself, trying to still the flutters in her chest.  “The demons are gone, but now what?  Think, think, there has to be way.  There’s always a way, you just have to find it, Cait.  Be smarter than them.  That’s what Mama taught you.” 

 

Closing her eyes, she breathed out, dropping into the calm place Sten had showed her, and when she opened her eyes there was something in the house that had not been there before.  It looked like a little pedestal, or a fountain maybe?

 

Uncertain, but seeing no other way out, Caitwyn’s fingers lighted on the object, and the world twisted.

 

* * *

 

 

The Fade was a puzzle. 

 

Like the book of math she’d found.  She had always been good at puzzles, at fitting things together until they made sense or worked.   It was a matter of finding one path that led to another until she worked her way out of this damned place. 

 

Once outside of her own dream, she’d found Niall, or what she hoped was Niall.  He didn’t look at her with hungry demon eyes, so she had to take her chances.  She’d hesitated to leave the mage.  At least with him around, she wouldn’t be alone. 

 

She hadn’t known any of her companions long.  The longest she’d known any of them was Alistair, and that was barely any time at all.  But already she had begun to rely on them, on their mere presence to not become lost in her own thoughts.  Leliana with her stories and songs, Sten with his peaceful quiet, and even Morrigan with her sharp retorts.  Of course there was Maethor and his warmth and unquestioning affection and adoration.  Then, then there was Alistair, with his jokes and open, honest manner. 

 

Thinking of her fellow Warden, she suddenly realized what else had been nagging at the back of her mind.  She couldn’t sense him.  That was another thing Wardens could do, he’d told her, sense each other.  Someone could have blindfolded her and dropped her in a forest, and she could still point to where he was.  It had been something like a comfort, a sure knowledge that a strong shield was never that far away.

 

Now, in this place where the landscape bent the eye, and the paths muddled the senses, she couldn’t get a fix on him.

 

She was alone again.

 

Lost and alone, no help, no one to come to her rescue.  Just her and the demons in the shifting madness of this place.

 

Following the twists and turns of the demon-formed maze, Caitwyn advanced cautiously, learning to focus her mind here, to change how she saw herself, to impose her will and _fight_.  To be a mouse was familiar, achingly so, to run and scurry and hide, while to be a golem made her want to chortle with a mad glee, to see the demons run ahead of her in fear.  For once _she_ was big and strong, for once others feared _her_. 

 

It was easier to think on that than let her thoughts turn inward again, to hear that persistent voice _alone alone alone_.  She wondered if it was the demon, trying to get into her head, but then it already _was_ in her head, wasn’t it?  It was trying to stop her at every turn, to keep her from her companions. 

 

Wynne was the first one she found, surrounded by the forms of her dead apprentices.  Then Sten, too, was with the memories of those who had died.  They wanted their lives to be what they had known, unchanged, and Caitwyn knew that wish.  That had been her wish, too, and standing witness to their loss made her taste ashes in her mouth.

 

What right had she to know this? 

 

None.

 

Then she found Alistair, and she wondered if his sister was dead, too.  Or was this all a desperate imagining of a man without a family, who only wanted what he never had?  She didn’t know, and she wasn’t sure if it mattered, the distinction. 

 

It was too much, too much knowledge that she had no right to, hadn’t earned, and seeing how the demon twisted others as much as it had tried to twist her made her stomach clench in sick anger.  It had gotten into her head, into _all_ their heads and taken something that should have been good and precious and turned it inside out, a mockery of what _should_ have been.

 

When she found the demon, finally, when it gloated over her, Caitwyn wasted no words.  Behind her, her companions appeared as if from nowhere, and her mouth spread into a vicious grin.  With a stamp of her foot, she triggered her transformation into a golem, and did her best to tear the demon apart.

 

* * *

 

Caitwyn opened her eyes, the world suddenly too real, too definite.  It was distressingly _solid_.  Her body ached, and she could smell the blood and corruption that the demons left in their wake.  Wincing, she sat up.  The others were waking, too, and Caitwyn allowed herself a relieved exhalation to see their eyes open.  Then memory slammed into her, and she scrambled to where Niall lay.  She brushed his brown hair out of his eyes, but there was no point.  His skin was cold and waxy to the touch, and his chest was still. 

 

“Oh Niall,” she heard Wynne whisper.  The older mage knelt next to Caitwyn and placed a hand on the dead man’s shoulder.  Caitwyn glanced at Wynne, letting her see the sympathy there.

 

“He helped me, he helped us all,” Caitwyn told her, and Wynne nodded. 

 

“He was a good man,” Wynne agreed.  Then she moved Niall’s hands and plucked a small, leather bound book from his grasp.  Then the mage extended the book to Caitwyn.  “This is the Litany of Adralla.  One need not be a mage to use it, only quick.”

 

Without any further prompting, Caitwyn took the book, her eyes scanning over the Litany.  It was simple, and she repeated it a few times, ensuring she had it memorized.  Tucking the book away, Caitwyn stood, but her eyes were drawn one last time to Niall’s body.  _In Death, Sacrifice_.  There never was any getting around it, it seemed, and Caitwyn murmured a prayer for the fallen.

 

Maybe the Maker was watching, as Leliana believed, maybe He would pay attention to someone like her.  Or maybe He had turned his back on them all, and all that was left was to pick up the pieces and find a way on their own.  She’d never know, but no matter what, it didn’t make the sacrifice any less worthy.

 

“Thank you,” she whispered, to Niall, to Duncan, to Neralos, to her mother, to everyone who had died while she still lived.  She might never be able to set their ghosts to rest, but she wouldn’t pretend they didn’t exist either.  If anything what she had seen in the Fade, seen in her friend’s minds, told her that they all felt alone.  That they were all of them haunted.

 

She couldn’t do anything about the ghosts she carried, but she could try to prevent there from being more.  It was time to bring Uldred to justice.


End file.
